O how you vex me, Dayve Hawke. You vex me because I know you are just one person, yet two of your three alter egos have names in the plural. When talking about you I know I should be all "Memory Tapes is..." but see, that upsets my pedantic semantic circuits so much that if I didn't like you as much as I do I wouldn't like you very much at all. Memory Tapes is [grrr!] the outcome of Mr.
No one ever wants to admit that summer's totally over, but it's even tougher this year considering how fun it all was-- seems like every other day, an evocatively named band would come about and contribute to this glo-fi/dreambeat/chillwave thing that was perfect for those unbearably humid August nights rife with possibility, imagining an alternate universe where the narcotic of choice in danceclubs were Galaxie 500 and Saint Etienne records. More than a few of these singles came from Philadelphia's Dayve Hawk in the guise of either Memory Cassette, Weird Tapes, or Memory Tapes. To this point, he'd served as something of a microcosm for this sound, which has created intriguingly hazy, wistful but beat-informed one-offs and EPs, but nothing weighty enough to get it past "something we did that one summer," as if it were a road trip or ill-fated romance recalled years later.
One of the ways I love to listen to music is while travelling. Walking, driving, flying, running, it doesn’t matter, there’s just something about moving through scenery that works so well with a soundtrack. Travelling is also the perfect way to enjoy new music; with nowhere to go except the place you’re going you can really listen to music. It’s a great time to re-evaluate old sounds and unfamiliar pieces you might not be sure about.
In a trend that's becoming more common, Dayve Hawk, the New Jersey-based producer behind enigmatic dance pop project Memory Tapes, released this debut LP before playing any of the tunes live. But with a record this strong, a big tour seems likely to follow, and he appears to be amassing the PR/booking team to do just that. [rssbreak] On Seek Magic, Hawk's synth-based constructions occupy a space halfway between reflective IDM and a hip dance party.